The alternate ending
by laveilia
Summary: When Ib goes to the geurtena art museum again at sixteen years old for a highschool project, she ends up getting more 'into the art' than wanted.. but when she does.. memories of a friend, an adventure, an a tragic accident return, and she must find a way to get that friend back, and finish what was started 7 years ago properly Ib x garry, based off 'the forgotten portrait' ending
1. Geurtena Museum

**Author note:**

**first story on here, since I lost the pass for my old account. lol either way I haven't used ff in a few years...**

**please review and tell me if you want me to continue. hope you like it?!**

**(the story is based off the ending 'the forgotten portrait)**

* * *

The ice cold wind brushed at my face, bringing my nose to turn red. It was late autumn, and the snow had recently started to fall. I was currently making my way to my school.

When I entered the doors, the heat brought instant content. I had just realised how cold I had been.

My life was ordinary. My average day would have been getting up and 6:30 to get ready.. I would head to school, and it would take five minutes...

I had two friends, Allie and Hannah... Allie was a spunky sort, who liked to read and write, and wants to write a book when she is older. Her eyes, I have never seen. She always has her thick, spirally glasses on that seem to block everything else. Her hair is a deep red, and she tends to set her own trends.. since she wears old-styled clothing that seems it will never come back in style.

Then there's Hannah... She's optimistic, and tries hard as she can to get work done, and everything else... she treats sports like it's the olypics, but otherwise has a shy and comfortable-kind personality.. that shows so easily off in her big blue eyes.. the rest of of her face is kind as well, with her freckles and shiny black hair that seems to belong to a doll.

I would sit with these friends... we'd play together and hang out together... we'd be partnered together for every time we could in class, and we liked to talk to each other..

After the day with them, and learning in class... I would go home. I would talk to my mother how my day way, and I'd get ready for dinner, and hang out in my room...

I would most likely paint. Painting was something I had picked up all of a sudden after going to an art museum when I was younger. I wasn't very good, but something clicked together like a puzzle in me that day. (milk puzzle anyone?) I had been so inspired, and since then all the free time I had when I was alone would go toward painting, and drawing, and sketching, and imagining- beautiful, strange things my mind could come up with. My parents had even noticed that day that something changed in my life. That I was different, and such.

I never really talked too much before that day either- another mystery. Nobody needed me to talk to them, since I never knew how to approach somebody. But when I left I felt like I had talked a fair share, a feeling that I didn't feel in a long time.

After my few hours of painting, I had ate dinner, then went to bed. My life felt too simple. Maybe that was why I painted?

To add insanity and wonder into my life?

No.. It was much, much more...

* * *

"Ib!" Hannah called, her hair held by ponytails today, atop her head. Her eyes shimmered gleefully as she raced to my side.

"Yes?" I asked, snapped out of thought.

"We're going on a feild trip in art class! tomarrow, too! It was a spur of the moment thing, but the art museum apparently gave our teacher a discount on the tickets if we could come! They must really want us to see the exhibit's, huh?" we sat down at our desks in class, waiting for class to start. The bell rung as art class had started- students filing in, along with our teacher.

"That's really cool Hannah, I can't wait." I smiled at her, my voice calm- but inside I was very excited. My favorite art museum and/or the only one I've been to. If i've been to another, I wouldn't have remembered.

"alright class," Our teacher clapped, trying to seize our attention. His old smile shone with excitement too, his grey eyes smiling today, and his grey hair pulled back into a ponytail, and his mustache cut short.

"tomarrow will be a great art class! it is very late notice, but we will be going to go to the Guertena art gallery, so please bring your camera's and/or sketchbooks- so we can get inspiration from one of the most amazing artists yet!"

You could just tell Mr. Withers really was a fan. His eyes shone brighter by the second. He was more excited than half his students, for sure.

* * *

"So please, bring five dollars for tomarrow, and please tell your parents to contact me if they have any problems! I will also apologize to every one of them that isn't a fan of the late notice~ again, i'm sorry, and have a good day!" He smiled at each one of us as we walked out, and waved goodbye to us.

I ran home. I couldn't wait to tell my mother and father!

* * *

"Geurtena's?" Mom said, taking a bite of her dinner shortly afterword- then wiping her face with a napkin. "The same one we took you to seven years ago?"

"Boy, time flies." Dad ackknowledged, joining in the conversation.

"Yeah.. I'm really excited. I hope that I can see 'abyss of the deep again!' I smiled.

Mom joined in. "Emobodiment of the spirit was really nice too, right?"

"I don't know, but 'the lady in red' was my favorite-" Dad was jabbed by mom in the ribs.

We all laughed while dad groaned in pain.

"Oh! remember 'the coughing man' ?"

"Yeah! that one was the most pointless work he made, it had no meaning!" Dad groaned.

"Hey! how about 'the hanged man?' That one was my least favorite!" mother giggled nervously.

I took a bite of my dinner. "Oh! How about those mannequins? they were okay!" mom nodded with me. "And what about the painting of insects? they were all lined up like a series so simple, but i liked it!" i took another bite of my dinner. " Lady without her umbrella was a nice peice too, right? and the blessed bride and the blessed groom were also-" i noticed my parents were staring at me strangely.

"honey, we never saw those peices? did you go into any roomss you weren't supped to then?" i shook my head. "no."

"hm." dad mumbled. " maybe we just missed them.."

* * *

I painted for as long as possible, letting my canvas mold the watercolors by it's will.. of course, until my mom told me to go to bed for the night.

I couldn't wait to see the painting and sculptures again, what inspiration!

I also...

couldn't wait..

to..

see..

'the..

forgotten..

portrait..'

My mind went blank with content as thoghts rambled in my head.

huh?

which one was the forgotten portrait again?


	2. Garry

I walked through those glass doors below a giant sign, "Geurtena museum' and I smiled the moment I walked in.  
Allie and Hannah laughed loudly at some picture and ran off in that direction.

_Awesome! Just some time to sink and drown in the art_! I thought.  
I ran down the hall, only to look at my favorites. 'Embodiment od the spirit', 'lady in red' and others like 'marvelous night'.  
This whole place suited me. I wrote down every note or spec of information I could find, and glided down the white hallways again in search of a new piece of art.  
It was all amazing. Inspiring. Geurtena had to be a really smart man, right? a head like his was the kind I wanted.  
Creative.  
I rushed around, but I soon noticed a painting with a purple hue, that caught my attention. I tilted my head to the side, trying to understand the painting. This one was.. different.  
It didn't match geurtena's style, and had been a man in a shabby looking coat, a deep navy in the color. The man had pale skin, with rings around his closed eyes. blue roses flooded the background of this photo-like painting, sifting in with the man's light purple hair, that seemed to have some darker strands at the top.  
_This man... he looked to be.. emo_? Like he was pained. But he was sleeping, right? Maybe he was having a nightmare?  
Before I realized I was, I was tracing the facial features on my note pad with my pen. "Ah. I should have brought my sketchbook." I mumbled, not impressed with my messy doodle my teacher wouldn't prefer to see on my notes.  
I got up again, putting the notepad in my pocket. I walked toward a new section.  
I realized I had missed a hallway.

I glided down the corridor, walking fast so it was not considered running. I ran by when staff wasn't looking. I jogged down an empty hall, clear of people.  
The lighting was dimmer over in this area,shining directly on a large, messy board that I couldn't have sworn to be his child's painting.

as I looked closer, I noticed it really was just scribbles. But the lines resembled figures, a painting of.. a.. woman in.. red..? Ah. I smiled big. This was it! this was the coolest piece I had seen yet! It was geurtena's perceptive as a child while painting! He wanted you to look at it like it was a child's painting, and search for resemblances to real things, right?  
I wrote down notes about the painting.

'The fabricated world  
-a messy drawing  
-resembling a child's perceptive of the world?  
-very interesting to sort out.  
-different from his usual style.'

looking at it closer, and gasped. "It's-it's actually drawn in crayon!" I looked closely around the rim, looking at the lines of aged crayon, and when tracing the bottom, something caught my eye.  
a blonde girl. Her wavy hair seemed to be the focus of the drawing, hidden on the side. Sh was holding a yellow flower, though I didn't know what to make of it.  
Her face didn't even had eyes drawn, just a.. faceless child clutching onto a yellow flower.

The lights dimmed above me, taking my interest off the portrait for only a second.  
"What was-?" I shook my head. I looked toward the painting again, a to say goodbye, since I wanted to explore more..  
But..

I noticed something on the white wall... blue paint.  
Why was there-! maybe it was leaking?!

I examined it closer, as it looked fresh, as it stained the wood further on the walls, leaking deep within the museum sides.  
"Ah.." I gasped. what was i supposed to do about that?

turning to run for staff help, t inform them. Though my eyes stuck to the floor before my voice could surface.  
'come ib' it wrote repeatedly on the floor, in what looked like blood. ah- it was red paint.

Who would do this?

I ran toward the end of the hall, and looked for the main room,  
running past what seemed to be all the paintings. Not a soul in sight.

"what's.." I sighed, freaking out.  
I sprinted down, suddenly not minding if a staff member was to yell at me. Down the stairs I went as the lights flickered in the lobby.  
"Ahh!" I leaped, suddenly fearful of everything.  
where was the desk attendant?

I ran to the first picture that Allie and Hannah had seen. They were nowhere in sight either, and the lights seemed to be dim there, as well.

I felt like crying.  
I wanted out.  
I wanted to go home.  
I wanted...

I suddenly felt a feeling of deja vu, as if it wasn't the first time.. I went through this.  
I would have remembered something like this... this is probably similar to a nightmare, if anything.

fleeing again, I took the stairs up again, looking for another way. When running by 'the forgotten portrait' I noticed it was off.  
It.. wasn't 'the forgotten portrait' it was...  
'The hanged man..?'

what.. happened here while I was procrastinating? Was i? was I sleeping?  
hoping my opinion to be true, that I had simply 'been so excited, fell and hit my head' I pinched myself.  
That only made my arm turn into a pink bruise.

After feeling the tears emerge in my face, I jolted down the other option of hall.  
Right after entering, I saw ink footprints staining the floor below, and the blue prints leading right into... 'abyss of the deep'  
...

I walked up to it, hesitant of the open exhibit. It was a gimmick after all! It was all for the sake of getting in trouble, and walking on the art, wasn't it?!  
I didn't care anymore. If they wanted me to walk on it to yell at me, so be it. I was fuming, thinking that they'd go this far to catch the girl who had been annoying the museum staff with her running around an over-joyed states.  
Stepping forward, I felt like they were all going to yell at me, and for a moment, I forgot the main idea.  
The ground sunk beneath me, as I slipped i what felt like thick water.  
Paint?!  
I had passed out before I drowned.

the dark felt good. I was safe, alone, and I wasn't hurt. I was scared, yes. I could stay here. With my eyes closed, and I didn't have to be scared. I was dead? was I not? was I alone? did I just faint?  
Maybe I ate some bad dinner last night? I didn't know anymore.  
It was all so real.

I tugged one of my eyes open, to view what may be my future death. Or- already death?

I viewed the paths to choose. red, or blue. There were two different halls. I chose the blue one, and walked along the path, the words 'come in' staining the path I walked.  
There was a vase there. It contained a beautiful, fake rose in it. I grasped it, maybe to make myself bleed from it's thorns, to feel the reality again, to know what was real.  
but as I tried to pin myself, I had grasped it too rough, and a petal fell off.  
Immense pain running through my blood, I dropped it to the floor, grasping my hand, which was the old part of my that seemed unhurt.

closing in on it, I poked at it fast, hoping to not be burned by it's fiery red blood, ad hoping not to be harmed again. I grasped it fully now, knowing the stem was safe. I dangerously poked a the petal, expecting a pain- but none started anywhere.  
I felt the softness of the petal though, and that was enough to know this rich feeling was of a real fragile flower, and not a plastic craft store one.

I put it back in the vase, hoping to leave without any more problems.. but when the flower touched the water my previous pain seemed forgotten as a blissfully content feeling flooded in my veins now.  
Maybe I should take it with me? I walked into the room, after pushing the desk aside.

I found a key in the middle of the floor, and a picture of a woman with her eyes closed.  
Did geurtena find a love for painting people with their eyes closed?

I grasped the key, looking for some sort of wording. nothing. Just a basic key, lie one to a child's diary.  
I got up to leave, but not before looking at the painting to notice her cat eyes were wide open, as her mouth formed a murderer's smile.  
My heart fell in my stomach, and I was out of the room before i had a chance to freeze.

I suddenly noticed a sign beside the vase. it read:  
"You and the rose are one, know the weight of your own life."

That.. would explain alot.

I almost walked down the hallway, until I read the blood red paint spell 'thief' on every inch of the floor and wall.  
Someone... had been here.. and saw me... they're watching me right now.

My blood turned cold again, and I ran to the other end of the hallway.

I remembered this feeling. This fearfully horrible feeling. Like Someone could grab my ankles and drag me away in a second. I remembered this feeling of true fear. I knew it well.  
I felt the image sink into my mind, and I suddenly stopped dead in front of the door.

"I-was here as.. as a child." I whispered, attempting to convince myself.

I... didn't know what to think about this. I thought it would only be a deja-vu from a nightmare.. but I remember..

I pushed the key into the door, and turned it, urgent to get into the next room.

Then alot of memories came back just then. When I had told my parents about the paintings I liked.. I knew they were from the gallery.. just not this exact part of it.  
I felt tears bubble as I remember entering here as a kid, alone and afraid. alone...  
but...  
I wasn't. Garry was with me.

_Garry_...

I fell into a pile on the ground as I sobbed uncontrollably. I gasped and cried.  
It may have been a while i was there, but everything came back.  
I found his rose  
returned it  
traveled with him  
and he was there for me  
he kapt me safe  
he risked his life for me  
and he... Mary...  
Mary killed him.

the blonde girl... it was her. The crayon drawing. it was all her fault.  
no...  
It was mine.  
I had a voice.  
I could have saved him back then if I just didn't agree to mary's aweful idea of a trade.

I felt my tears dropping all over my shirt, and I couldn't see. It was all blurry. My thoughts, and my eyes.

Coming here.  
remembering everything...  
remembering Garry.. it was all too much.

I don't remember how long I cried, but It was long enough to cover six years of lost memories and tears.

* * *

**A/N:**

I'll probably update in a few hours or days, but i'm very sorry about this chapter :(

Personally, I find that evryone makes memories come back just like_ that_ when they right a story about someone with amnesia or something... And also, I'm sorry this chapter was mainly boring. I promise the next few chapters won't be as descriptive with the gameplay parts, in fact, next chapter i'll probably start with '_after i stopped crying, i had already found myself rooms away__-_' and etc. well, see you!


	3. The black room

**I'm really sorry I didn't get this up earlier, i've had a bunch of problems on my comuter for weeks now plus I was being a lazy person and kept putting it off BUT NOT ANYMORE since I'm writing a few chapters tonight to cover for the next couple of days.**

* * *

Once I had gotten on my feet, the rest flew by. Rooms full of colors and art were behind me now, passing by as if I was teleporting.  
I was in a complete daze, thinking about Garry. I felt horrible. Sadness from the fact that I forgot him.  
As I went from room to room, passing mannequins and the ladies in red,  
that pain soon turned to a complete need to find him.  
He may be alright.  
He could be there.  
He might have been waiting for me all this time.  
right?  
I wasn't tempted to leave until I found out.

As i walked in the sketchbook city, something made me think.  
'the forgotten portrait' was still in the museum, right?  
Well, wouldn't that mean that he was still alive here?  
Since the other artwork was alive in this world, doesn't that mean Garry lives as well?

I felt relief start to grow the more I thought.  
but was that just hope?  
I _hoped_ not.

the black paper sky was still above my head, as I grabbed the plastic key, and walkd out to smeell the crayon grass, and feel the light warmth of the crayon sun.  
Slipping the key into the lock, I walked in the room, and daringly jumped into the toybox, as the room had altered back since I left.

As the furious toys shooed me around, I found the door in the semi-lit room, and ran u the stairs, the toys lost and not daring to follow.

reaching the top, I braced myself for what I was about to see.  
Was he there?  
was he ok?

I suddenly felt too scared to know.  
The dolls hadn't frightened me.  
The raging red women hadn't scared me.  
The mannequins feisty grip never startled me.

this frightened me.  
This scared me.  
this startled me.

I anxiously took one brief step forward, eyes closed as I sharply turned the corner.  
One eye slowly opening, I dared to look up.

I sucked in a tight breath as I looked in fear at the stone cold wall with no body lying against it.  
Where?  
Where...was he?

now I had a different fear.

But nonetheless, I ran as fast as I could, warily staring at every corned I could as Iran up the stairs to Mary's chamber.  
Nothing but a cold feeling haunted me as I walked up those stairs.

Mary's "Loves me," and "loves me not" in her sinful tone, whispering in my brain, I gathered up my strength and opened the door.  
Sure, I didn't expect there to be much. I didn't wonder about more than a few blue dolls and books about friends, and maybe her diary.  
What I did find though was a sharp, frozen palette knife as well.

I grabbed it, and stared at it coldly._ I don't forgive you Mary._

I felt my hands shaking as it ran through my head, and tears started to bubble in my eyes.  
_It's your fault! _  
_All yours!_

but it wasn't. and I knew that.

I dropped the palette knife, and got up. I rummaged through her books, her diary, and her dolls with care.  
Staring at the one thing that I didn't move, I got up, as a thought crossed my mind.

I pulled at the painting, the cold, lifeless painting i had burned those years ago. It could have been something behind this, right? I had never checked all those years ago.  
I didn't have the strength or the time to tear it off, and after it was over, I didn't think I had to.

Gripping at the edges, i pulled as hard as I could, as the nails around it fell off, and remaining glass cut me.  
"Ouch!" I winced.

for Garry, it's worth a few scratches.

I tugged at it again, this time with the palette knife acting as a crowbar, pulling from under it. I pulled at the black wood, and pulled more. I could feel the pain in my hands, and I could feel my rose slightly dehydrate from the little pain.  
With one last grip at it, I ripped it off the wall, and fell on my back. luckily on on the glass.

moving it aside, I smiled to myself.  
_Garry, I did it!_

It wasn't over yet. I still had to find Garry myself.  
I looked up at the hole with an ounce of wonder and a lot of fear.  
there was a hole behind it.  
and as a cold breeze flooded through it, I questioned what was on the other side.

Standing up, I looked above it. The cold breeze felt like snow on my face, an icy wind from a winter one year that I remember.  
I was scared of the unknown, but that wouldn't stop me.

Pulling at the sides of the wall, I hauled myself up. Being in a skirt and doing this was difficult, but I could live with it. As I sat on the brim of the middle wall, I threw it all away as I hoped for a floor beneath me-as I jumped below.  
It was deeper.  
Too deep.  
There wasn't a floor, was there?  
I had barely let out a scream before I felt my legs stumble on gravity under myself.  
I had hit the floor hard.  
And I didn't even have a light to show me where to go.

willing up my courage, I got up again.  
I felt along the walls, hoping to not run into a painting that would chase me, or attempt to eat me in the defenseless dark.

I winced, waiting for a pain as I felt a bump on the wall.  
A... _button_ of some sort.  
was it worth a risk?

The situation was still frightening, and I had already been feeling around it, careful not to push it.  
Though a second later, I did find a chord.  
Would a cord work?

The iron chain felt strange beneath my fingers, but I felt a relief when I pulled it, and a warming light flickered on.

The room was still cold though.  
It was also a large room, with a shade of black.  
It was a square room, that was very tall. I couldn't tell the color of the ceiling, since it was higher than the hole where I came from, which I could also see from here.  
A bright light from the corner of the room now illuminated the whole place better.  
There were paintings all around the room too, surrounded on the floor by red ropes.

I was lucky I had pulled that switch. Who knows what the other one would have done.

I discreetly walked over to the other paintings, looking them over.

I had noticed the lady in red first, and felt the urge to run. but- it looked cold. Lifeless.

I walked over to it, my steps echoing.  
I grazed my fingeres over the grainy paint, and surprise went through me when I noticed it felt cold and lifeless too.

It wasn't there.  
A _replica_?  
Surely not the real thing.  
I walked through the sound of my shoes clicking.

'worry'  
'fleeting thoughts on a moonlit night'  
'serpent's spirit'  
'selfless guard'  
'horizon view'  
'fleeting thoughts on a moonlit night'  
'reserved seat'  
'your dark figure'  
'abyss of the deep'  
'the hanged man'  
'heart wounds'  
'eternal blessing'  
'untitled'  
'mannequin face'  
'milk puzzle'  
'fleeting thoughts on a moonlit night'

They were all there.  
even the sculptures, surprisingly.  
But all on a painting.

These weren't the originals, right?

reserved seat' was never a painting! Yet here it was...

It was a _puzzle._  
It all made sense now.

Why would their be a room with every artwork from the gallery?  
That wasn't out to harm?

But I have to choose wisely...

I walked around the large room, eyeing the last of the paintings.  
then-a blank canvas.

or-_wait._  
I glimpsed closer, to see the layer flimsy, resting on top of a painting.

Without crossing the red preventing line, I tugged at the cover, to find my heart had stopped once it came off.  
It was...

_"the forgotten portrait"_


	4. the hanged man

I gasped and pulled my hands to my face, begging myself not to cry again.  
Was he here?  
was he stuck? How do I fix it?  
How do I gethim out from the painting?  
I put my hands up to the painting, and felt the coldness of that, too.  
The tears once again smothered my face.I held the painting close, wishing it could be Garry.  
I held the sides of the painting, as if giving it a hug.

Then I felt a breeze coming from behind that peice. w-were these like Mary's painting?  
I grasped it, and pulled it off, with all my might, noticing another big pit.  
I jumped down without a second thought.

Landing harshly, I gathered my wobly legs to stand up.  
I looked around. Another cold room. even colder than the last.  
I held my arms quickly, then put them to the wall, to feel for something.  
The darkness wasn't helping me at all.

I grasped around, feeling excited, scared, and hoping.  
Was he in here?  
could he be?  
he's alive right-

I felt the wall end with a plush gathering of fabric.  
Of clothing.  
Whose?

I fell back, only to be pulled up by a strong arm.  
My heartbeat was running like a jackrabbit, I was sure. pounding and fast.  
I was pullled close to the other, and was waiting for my life to end.  
for a mannaquin, the lady in red- or something else to rip my rose to shreads-  
but I was greeted with a warm light, so I opened my eyes.

Garry was there.  
a shocked smile on his face as he held out his lighter to brighten the room.  
Once I saw him my fears died.  
I felt my tears fall freely, as I stared at him.  
"Garry?" I had desprately asked.

"Ib?" He smiled, that same old relieved smile.

I finally let go of everything, As I grasped him tightly, pulling closely on him.  
"Your really here, right?" I stuttered, my feelings on my tongue.

"I think so.." he smiled.

I hugged him, grasping his torso. "your really... your really here."  
I cried. "I missed you."

"Yeah... I missed you too, Ib." He wrapped his arms around me.  
"Alot." He added.

There was a long period of time when I cried, and he comforted me through my tears.  
I really missed him.  
Even though I had only remembered him today.

After I stopped, he helped me up, and we started a conversation.

"Ib, I think I know a way out."  
i blinked. "You do?"

he smiled, holding his lighter bright.  
"I think so, thought I haven't really been doing much until you came."

I frowned. "how did you survive?"

"Like eating-wise?" he laughed. "Luckily, I dont need food here. You don't either. Time is stopped in this dimension I guess."

"but don't you...?" I trailed off.  
"what?" He blinked, facing me. "want to eat?"

i nodded.

He sighed. "Yeah, I do. I'd love to eat food again..."  
I smiled; "well, we can soon!"

He realised what I meant and laughed. "Yeah, when we get out. together."

I walked with him around the large room until we reached the door.  
"well, this is it." He sighed. "Though I don't really know what's on the other side." he added, his tone lowering.

I giggled. "well, we can get past alot, right?"  
i felt my liveliness coming back.  
Wasn't Garry my reason to live all along?  
he saved my life, those years ago.

Opening the door, and walking through the black corridor and through the empty haallways, we started to talk, as he led the way and I trailed behind.

"So were you lonely?" I asked, thoroughly concerned.  
"Kind of. like I said, time is kind of stopped, so I don't feel as if I was wasting my time, either."  
"that's a good point." I added.

"Did you miss me?" I asked hopefully.  
"Thought of you every second."

I felt my cheeks rise in heat.  
"did you now..." I stuttered.

"did you ever think of leaving yourself?" I asked.  
"It's not like I could. Time is basically stopped, and though it's confusing, until you came in there, the door was locked. So thanks to you, i'm saved!"  
He dramatically added.  
I laughed. "I guess I'm your hero this time."

As they walked down the stairs, they found themselves in the gallery.  
"we've made it Ib, let's go!"

He ran through the first floor doors, hurried.

"Garry, that's not the right way!"  
I heard him run back in the silence, and he came my way. "I'm pretty sure it's this way, Ib!" he laughed.  
for the first time in years, he grabbed my hand, pulling me along the first floor.

I was shocked at how stupid I was.

No matter what I had forgotten, I should have always remembered this on thing, right?

Garry's hands were never this cold.

I froze at the cold touch and instinctively showed it in my eyes. I knew what this was.  
He smiled in questioning for a moment, as in, 'what are you doing?'but then his gaze darkened. He was angry now. and evil, too. but he was always that.  
"looks like I messed up a bit, right? darn. If I had only gotten you to the right place I could have kept you here forever, too." He smiled.  
"your insane!" I yelled. taking steps back, I noticed how he approaced me with ease.  
I had already cried too much today, now just a cold hatred for this place and a hope for Garry was in me.

He laughed. "That may be-but you'll be too, before i'm done with you."  
My cue to run.

I ran up those stairs faster than I ever had in gym class, or maybe even if Allie or Hannah were chasing me. This time there was a killer on my heels.

the path had changed, much to my liking. The path to the black gallery room wasn't available anymore, and I ende back up in the pink house in sketchbook city.  
I ran to the toybox room again. it hadn't changed back. good.  
I didn't nee a false garry AND a bunch of deadly toys on my back.

Tearing throug the stairs again, I could feel myself falter in diziness. In queziness. My sides tugged and screamed for me to stop running, but I didn't have a choice. Lives depended on me. Mine, and Garry's.  
I had made a mistake in going to 'the forgotten portrait' so what other painting was there to find Garry?

I tore througth the floor of Mary's room, and I felt the blue dolls eyes follow me. I didn't have time to stop and falter or be frightened.

Jumping down the hole behind Mary's portrait, I stumbled and Gasped out in pain.

Had I twisted my ankle? didn't matter.

Now I could hear the echoes of the fake Garry scream in my ear, from the above room.  
"Ib? Where are you?" he taunted.

I didn't have time to think, and he knew where I was. He was just teasing me.  
Or maybe... All the paintings lead to the real version of something...

So were these all traps?

I didn't know what to think anymore.

What if the milk puzzle led him? Me and Garry talked about that. What if he was connected to it?  
What if he was connected to 'smoking gentleman'? he did smoke, right?!

...

...

...

Wait.  
I felt that glimmer of hope burn into a large flame.

If I was right, i might just be able to make it out of here... I thought, limping towards 'the hanged man'  
Garry told me in front of this painting that he was looking at this in the gallery, and If I remember correctly..  
I did see him there.

Was this a possibility?

I didn't have time to think, as the faux garry was pulling himself up he picture frame, ready to jump down here at anytime.  
Running now, I pulled at the frame harshly, tugging it off and sitting in the frame. I stood, balancing on the inside of the wall, as I placed the peice of artwork back on its place, hopefully going to confuse the false Garry where I went.

Falling down, I tried not to scream. I held my mouth shut on the floor, hearing the steps of the Garry above wander round and around the room, searching for where I had gone.  
It was all a game to him though.

I limped as quiet as possible over the ground, anywhere in the silence. anywhere he could possibly be.

My chest went tight as a light went on, as to reveal some sort of show on a stage. though the eerie effect was unavoidable, as it came up in only one spot in the dark arena, and produced light onto the main showcase.

Garry.

though this was more frighteneing than the hanged man. Garry had been held up by his feet by stone vines, and very sharp looking ones at that.  
His face looked pale and stone too, as it was almost the same shade as the white light comnig from underneath him.

I limped over to him, to attempt to get him down. as I reached to grab a vine to snap in half, a the sound of a voice became much clearer behind me.  
"Ib? you Down there?!"


End file.
